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Thou art mad to say so!" replied the knight.

"It is all in a light flame on the western side. I have striven in vain to extinguish it."

With the stern coolness which formed the basis of his character, Brian de Bois-Guilbert communicated this hideous intelligence, which was not so calmly received by his astonished comrade.

"Saints of Paradise!" said De Bracy; what is to be done? I vow to Saint Nicholas of Limoges a candlestick of pure gold-" "Spare thy vow," said the Templar, "and mark me. Lead thy men down as if to a sally; throw the postern-gate open. There are but two men who occupy the float, fling them into the moat, and push across for the barbican. I will charge from the main gate, and attack the barbican on the outside; and if we can regain that post, be assured we shall defend ourselves until we are relieved, or at least till they grant us fair quarter."

"It is well thought upon," said De Bracy; "I will play my part. Templar, thou wilt not

fail me?"

"Hand and glove, I will not!" said BoisGuilbert. "But haste thee, in the name of

God!"

De Bracy hastily drew his men together, and

rushed down to the postern-gate, which he caused instantly to be thrown open. But scarce was this done ere the portentous strength of the Black Knight forced his way inward in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two of the foremost instantly fell, and the rest gave way, notwithstanding all their leader's efforts to stop

them.

"Dogs!" said De Bracy, "will ye let two men win our only pass for safety?"

"He is the devil!" said a veteran man-at-arms, bearing back from the blows of their sable antagonist.

"And if he be the devil," replied De Bracy, "would you fly from him into the mouth of hell? the castle burns behind us, villains! — let despair give you courage, or let me forward ! I will cope with this champion myself."

And well and chivalrous did De Bracy, that day, maintain the fame he had acquired in the civil wars of that dreadful period. The vaulted passage to which the postern gave entrance, and in which these two redoubted champions were now fighting hand to hand, rung with the furious blows which they dealt each other, De Bracy with his sword, the Black Knight. with his ponderous ax. At length the Norman received a blow, which, though its force was partly parried by his shield, for otherwise nevermore

would De Bracy have again moved limb, descended yet with so much violence on his crest, that he measured his length on the paved floor.

"Yield thee, De Bracy," said the Black Champion, stooping over him, and holding against the bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which the knights dispatched their enemies (and which was called the dagger of mercy),-" yield thee, Maurice De Bracy, rescue or no rescue, or thou art but a dead man."

"I will not yield," replied De Bracy faintly, "to an unknown conqueror. Tell me thy name, or work thy pleasure on me-it shall never be said that Maurice De Bracy was prisoner to a nameless churl"

The Black Knight whispered something into the ear of the vanquished.

"I yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no rescue," answered the Norman, exchanging his tone of stern, determined obstinacy, for one of deep, though sullen, submission.

FROM "IVANHOE."

Sir Walter Scott.

MARMION AND DOUGLAS.

The train from out the castle drew;
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu.

"Though something I might plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your king's behest,

While in Tantallon's towers I stayed, Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble earl, receive my hand."

But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke :
"My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
Be open, at my sovereign's will,
To each one whom he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
My castles are my king's alone,
From turret to foundation stone:
The hand of Douglas is his own,
And never shall, in friendly grasp,
The hand of such as Marmion clasp."

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire;
And, "This to me?" he said;

"And 't were not for thy hoary beard,

Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head.

And first, I tell thee, haughty peer,
He who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her state,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate.

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And, Douglas, more I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near,
I tell thee thou 'rt defied !
And if thou saidst I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied."

On the earl's cheek the flush of rage

O'ercame the ashen hue of age.

Fierce he broke forth: "And dar'st thou then

To beard the lion in his den,

The Douglas in his hall?

And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go?

No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no! —

Up drawbridge, grooms! — what, warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall."

Lord Marmion turned,-well was his need,And dashed the rowels in his steed,

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